The Nightmare
by Number1PixarFan
Summary: Oneshot. Yang and Mary's daughter Lucy had a nightmare. She goes to both of her parents for comfort, but neither of them are very helpful. Promised Land shipping.


**A/N: Hooray, I finished a thing!**

**This takes place in the afterlife, in the scenario where Yang gets into Heaven and they get married and live happily ever after. Their daughter is six or seven years old at this point. (For some reason, she's aging, even though her parents aren't. I guess once she's past puberty, she'll stay the same age forever like them.)**

**I hope you like it! Please R&R!**

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><p>Lucy's nightmare was about a dragon with blue scales and sparkly gray eyes that trapped her in the basement and tried to eat her. It burned her angel wings with its breath so she wouldn't flee, and its damp, cavernous mouth had engulfed half of her body before she woke up.<p>

Lucy's father woke up very early every morning to read one of the many thick books he kept in the living room. So when Lucy had her nightmare, she ran straight to the living room and tapped on the back of his hand to get his attention. He was so surprised that he threw his book into the air. It closed itself when it hit the floor. He picked it up and muttered, "Three-twenty-six, three-twenty-six," as he flipped hurriedly through the pages.

"Daddy?"

Mary found the page he was looking for and slipped a bookmark into the crease. "Lucy!" he said, as if he was only now noticing his daughter standing next to him. "You're awake earlier than usual."

Lucy climbed over the arm of the couch so she could sit next to him. "Daddy, I had a scary dream."

"Oh. I'm sorry, sweetheart." He bent a stiff arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Her father gave terrible hugs, but Lucy understood how lucky she was that he loved her enough to touch her at all. "What was it about?" he asked after several moments of silence.

So Lucy told him about the dragon, and having her wings burnt off, and being halfway eaten before waking up. She looked up at her father as she spoke, hoping to find comfort in his gaze, but Mary stared down at her little hands in his own, only occasionally nodding his head to show he was listening. When the story was over, he wore an expression that was more pensive than anything else.

"A dragon. Hmm," he said. "And this wasn't a chase. You were just submitting to its attempts to devour you, correct?"

He was using big words. Lucy did not like it when he used big words; not only could she barely understand him, but every time he talked like that around Mommy, she would cringe and whimper like he was talking about something horrible. Of course, Lucy's nightmare _was _something a little bit horrible. She frowned, but nodded in affirmation.

Mary shifted on the couch so he could finally look his daughter right in the eye. His expression was one of wicked excitement. "Lucy, I want you to answer this thoroughly and honestly: are you harboring any rage? Perhaps towards Mommy, or me, or even yourself…"

"You and Mommy were upstairs," answered Lucy, who had only understood the very last part of her father's query. "But the dragon and I, we were in the basement, so you couldn't hear us."

"In the basement!" Mary turned away from Lucy with a _Eureka! _in his eyes. He thought silently to himself for several moments before musing, "So the feelings are still deep within the subconscious."

Lucy's stomach flipped in apprehension. She eyed the book her father had been reading. The words were all in German, but man with the beard on the cover looked dead-eyed and heartless.

Mary turned back to his daughter. "You're a child, Lucy."

"Uh-huh," said Lucy, unimpressed by the revelation.

"Something is bothering you, but it couldn't be anything particularly complicated. We just need to figure out what it is." Mary clasped his hands and squinted in concentration. "What's going on in Heaven School, sweetheart?"

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><p>He interrogated her for a minute, then proceeded to talk through his ideas for such a long time that Lucy pretended to fall asleep on the couch so he would stop. She didn't understand any of the big words Mary used in his detailed psychoanalysis of her nightmare, but she didn't suppose any of them were very cheerful. By the time he noticed her fake snoring, she'd forgotten about being scared, but she still didn't feel much better.<p>

Mary lifted his daughter off the couch and carried her to her bedroom. Both of them were glad she was small for her age. He set her down on her bed, threw the blanket over her, patted her on the back, and left, and within minutes, Lucy fell back asleep for real and had the same nightmare all over again. Little details had changed in the half-hour since the first dream's interruption: the dragon's scales were now a lighter shade of blue, and it made more of a show about burning her wings off. First, it burned up the wooden snowflake she'd made for her father in Heaven School last year, just to show her that it could.

The basics were the same, however, and this time she once again woke up just as half her body was inside the dragon's damp, cavernous mouth.

She ran scared for the second time, but this time she knew better and sought out her mother. Yang liked to exercise her freedom whenever the sun was shining (which was often in Heaven) by dancing and running through the front lawn. When Lucy found her that morning, she had already tired herself out and was lying in an X on the grass, laughing like a maniac.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Lucy shouted, squinting in the sun as her little feet tripped over the grass.

Yang pushed herself onto her knees and received her daughter with a giggle and arms spread wide. "Oh, Lucy, my sunflower, my beautiful little girl, how _are _you?" she babbled as she squeezed her close, smushing their cheeks up against each other. She hugged with extra affection to make up for Mary's stiffness, and Lucy thanked her stars that angels didn't need air to live.

"Mommy, I had a scary dream," said Lucy once her mother finally relaxed her grip.

"What? Oh no, sunshine, that's horrible!" Yang kissed Lucy on the forehead and squeezed her close once more. "Bad dreams are the worst, aren't they?" she said with a rich touch of sympathy in her voice.

She didn't ask what the nightmare was about, but to Lucy it felt like she was wringing the story out of her with hugs. Lucy told her about the dragon, and getting her wings burnt off, and being halfway eaten, and how she'd had this dream not once but twice now. She did find some comfort in resting on her mother's shoulder and speaking right into her ear, but that all went away when the story was over and they let go of each other. Yang's bright smile had dulled into stony seriousness, and she stared at Lucy with bold, unflinching eye contact.

"You can get through this," said Yang in a near-whisper. "I know it doesn't seem possible, but you can, because you are a brave little girl. And you are a _lucky _girl. To escape your dragon, all you need is to wake up. It's rarely that easy."

Lucy actually found her mother's advice helpful. The fire-breathing dragon was only a dream. That was literally all she'd needed to hear to feel better. And Yang had put it so simply – no big words at all! Lucy nodded and smiled for the first time all day, not realizing that Yang wasn't finished.

"In the future, you might come across a dragon who can't be defeated so simply." Her voice weakened and her eyes glazed over. "Not all dragons are the same. One might play tricks on you. It could promise not to kill you like it killed all the other girls. It wants to turn you into a big scary dragon just like him…" She mindlessly walked her hand across the ground and slipped blades of grass between her fingers. "And you'd believe it, because that dragon is all you know."

She placed her hand on top of Lucy's. Lucy flinched and tried to look away. She was fairly certain her mother was not actually talking about a dragon.

"Maybe one of those Chinese dragons," Yang muttered. "They don't breathe fire, no. They'd just rip your wings right out of your back…"

"Mommy, the dragon wasn't real," said Lucy. "It was a dream."

Yang's entire body twitched and her eyes opened as wide as they could, like she'd been snapped out of a trance. Breathing shallowly, she took Lucy back into her arms. "Oh. I'm sure it was, dear," she said unconvincingly as she hugged her tight.

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><p>The rest of the day was quite typical, although Yang couldn't seem to shake the stupor she'd dragged herself into. That evening, Mary consoled her. While pretending to play with her train set, Lucy watched as her father sat down on the couch and let her mother rest her head on his lap. He combed his fingers through her curly hair, and he gently shushed her whenever her whimpers sounded too distressed. He was reading his book out of the corner of his eye, and his body still looked stiff and uncomfortable. And Yang wouldn't stop squirming, and she kept absentmindedly pulling threads out of Mary's sweater sleeve.<p>

Still, the way they looked at each other was so calm and undemanding. That was more than Lucy could say about her own interactions with them. She pushed her wooden train forward with a jealous harrumph.

Across the room, Yang caught a glimpse of Mary's watch as he brushed her hair out of her face. "Oh! Baby, what time is it?" she mumbled.

Mary checked. "It's 8:25."

Yang sat up groggily and called, "Lucy, it's past your bedtime!"

Lucy sighed and stood up, leaving her trains where they were. It was about time – she'd felt quite sleepy all day because of that nonsense from the night before, which she worried would repeat itself if her parents didn't muster up some quality comfort. She walked past the two of them slowly and declared in a wooden voice, "Okay, I'm going to bed!"

"Sleep well, sweetheart," replied Mary, who flashed her the briefest of smiles before returning to his book.

Lucy scowled. "I hope I don't have any scary dreams like last night!" she continued.

The only answer she got was "Oh, I hope not, too," from Yang.

Finally, she decided to just stop trying. She looked down and said to the floor, "I wish I had _normal _dead parents!" before padding to her room in a tired huff.

Yang looked at her husband and smiled. "She's a good girl," she said.

Mary put down his book, but he didn't answer her. He was preoccupied with something else. "What would a 'normal' dead parent be like?" he wondered aloud. "I thought we were a pretty rare phenomenon as it was."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you hear what Lucy said? It didn't make sense, but it sounded a lot like she's angry at us." Mary's eyes lit up suddenly, as they did whenever he solved a mystery. "You know what it is, Paul?" he said. "Don't take offense, but… well, Lucy is upset with you."

Yang gasped. "Why? What did I do?"

"It's in her subconscious – I doubt she even realizes it," Mary said, patting his wife's hand comfortingly. "But it's understandable if she's developed an Electra complex. After all, her father – that's me – was her sole caregiver for the first few years of her life. When you, her mother, returned from Purgatory, she may have grown fearful of you replacing her as recipient of my affection."

He noticed Yang's hurt frown and amended, "That would never happen, of course. I have enough love for the both of you."

Yang was silent for several moments, staring at her husband with big, sad eyes. "Did you psychoanalyze our daughter?" she said eventually.

Mary cocked an eyebrow. "Um," he said, "not until today, at least not seriously. But then she came to me with this nightmare. What was I supposed to do? There's obviously some fiery rage festering deep within her…"

"Mary, that is not what you do when your child comes to you about a nightmare!"

Mary seemed dumbstruck. "It isn't?"

"No! You're supposed to comfort them!" Yang explained. "Lucy wanted you to… oh…"

Lucy's parents locked eyes and almost simultaneously realized how they'd screwed up. Their daughter had come to both of them with a problem and like the two crazy spirits that they were, they'd forgotten that their job was to solve that problem.

"We should go tuck her in," said Yang.

"Agreed," replied Mary. And, knowing that their own dreams would later be plagued with symbols of their guilt, the two of them got up and rushed to their daughter's bedroom.

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><p><strong>AN: Mary is probably smart enough that he doesn't just talk about Freudian stuff all the time, but dammit, that's some of the only psychology I know.**


End file.
